Bound in Blood and Trust
by The Varajan
Summary: And it looked at me it opened its mouth and said "It is a strange thing we should meet on the same road with the same end". I turned and said "The Flood is coming" and it nodded "Together human and Covenant we shall succeed against this coming reckoning"


**This story is not chronologically in tune with the rest of the Halo universe. I don't care much for dates, but if I must place it within a period within MY Halo universe. Its somewhere a decade between the first Halo and the Covenant discovery of Earth. I placed some time in between for my own purposes.**

**Chapter I**

_Warrant Officer Adler's Personal Log_

_ Entry XI_

_Installation 7 _

_01230 Hours November 13th, 2552 (Military Calendar)_

_We have been shot down while patrolling sector six. General Strom has ordered our retreat from sectors seven through eighteen back to our strong points at sectors twenty one and thirty two. We were the very last UNSC personnel to evacuate this last area, the Covenant are outright refusing to relinquish any ground even from the mauling we've given them_ . _Its impressive, even with such a comparatively smaller force they have handled themselves brilliantly and have fought tooth and nail to harass us and keep their holdings every step of the way. They must have a hell of a commander. He must have been the one who shot us down in the valley and he will be the one who will be the end of us all most likely._

_ Sergeant Gullery is now in command in the stead of Field Major Fernandez who took a hit of shrapnel when we got hit. I'm not sure he will survive the week. We are in deep trouble, we've been under siege in this small grove for the past four days. The Covenant is launching surprise raids, at night or at the most strange hours, but they are very careful to not put their units in danger. These raids have been sloppy, which has resulted in no casualties to either side._

_ We have no rations left, and if we surrender we will be executed as is usual protocol for our enemy. My arm is torn up from a nasty hit from a needler, my aim is suffering for it. Though there are many that are worse off than me._

_ Many are going to die without immediate medical attention and our last veteran medic got his head blown off by a beam rifle round. All that's left is a medical trainee who was drafted before she had hair on her crotch. Little snot is the worst off of all of us, she's responsible for our lives after all. _

_ I have no poetic words to finish this log, I am going to die. All of us are going to die. The Covenant are before us, and I can smell it in the air, the parasitic life form known as the Flood is behind us. _

_We are fucked_

_I thought this was doable, that we might actually survive this war and go home. I miss my husband so much and my darling Hans. It's his eleventh birthday in a week, and it would be my fourth one missed in a row._

…_._

_I wonder_

_The Covenant know about the Flood and they are just as terrified as us. Their compound is two hours away by a walk, maybe forty five minutes if I hoof it. Maybe I can talk to them, they outright shoot any humans who come to parlay or surrender. If we stay here we will die for sure, if we go to them we will die for sure. I can't talk to the Flood but I bet the Covenant are not unreasonable, not with the Flood on their doors. There was that report from the first installation that the Flood emerged from. Jackals, Grunts, Elites and Marines killed around a perimeter that they all seemed to be defending. The Spartan 117, Master Chief, had reported this personally._

_I'm taking my pistol and leaving my rifle, if I die I'd rather leave my guys something more substantial to defend themselves with. I'm going._

_If you find this, whatever you are, human rescuer, Covenant sniper or Flood_

_I am dead_

_I love you Hans and Fabian, please my love take care of our boy, make sure he survives us._

_**Logbook of Crimson Pilgrims Intelligence Officer Draga**_

_** We have shot down a substantial marine patrol, I believe it's the last in the area. Marine troop 364**__**th**__** of Commander Strom, designation The Dancers. I must give them credit for their persistence. No matter how many raids we launch they will not relinquish their position. No matter, at this point I've commanded the soldiers under Deacon Yayu to send his Grunts on Ghosts to harass the humans just to keep them on edge.**_

_** From what I have understood from my Jackal observers, their higher ranking commander is incapacitated by shrapnel wounds. From the patches on his uniform he seems to be a Major and now a Sergeant is in command. While I would not normally concern myself with a simple sergeant in command of a troop of dying soldiers, these humans are unpredictable. They attack even when they are outnumbered and they do not retreat when they are supposed to and do not yield an inch in the face of annihilation.**_

_** Be it heresy, I admire them regardless.**_

_** The Flood presence here is disturbing to me in the extreme, we do not have enough soldiers to repel a determined attack. All of my comrades will account for themselves tenfold but for every ten we slay a hundred more will take their place. Our only hope to outlast the storm is to finish the activation of the secluded installation Haven XXII. There is an enormous chasm in between the abyss and the mountain complex. There is a good flat plateau with reactors and it is the ideal place for my troops to hold their positions. Should we control the bridge and its power source we could theoretically hold our ground there indefinitely.**_

_** However, they are mortals of flesh and bone. For the sake of their souls and our place in the Great Journey we will stand our ground.**_

_** But perhaps, there is respite in this storm. The humans, perhaps can be persuaded to join us at the installation and repel the Flood, which will no doubt amass for an attack and annihilate us in wave after wave of creatures.**_

_** I have received word that there is a slight possibility that Commander Zha might be dropped from the Litany of Courage to assist us with his retinue of honor guard, should the situation improve. But it is unlikely. Through the several severe setbacks suffered at the hands of the humans we have managed to hang on to this region simply out of principle. We must maintain a presence in order to reverse the Flood here and gain the upper hand over the enemy when the war tips in our favor once again. But for the time being, this entire sector is expendable. Although I quake to ponder how many of our brothers and sisters fight against the Flood amidst the valleys, canyons and groves of this entire sector with no hope of survival.**_

_** I am well aware that this is open heresy what I suggest: to ally ourselves with the humans in order to ensure our survival. The humans are not fools and will more likely than not be well aware of the implications of our maintaining our hold over this region and what benefit it will play to our advantage if they come to our side. They will know they come into our home and that although they will help defend the shelter, we will ultimately attempt to use it against their kind one day.**_

_** We wage total war against one another, neither can live while the other survives. The only resolution is the extermination of the humans even if we become allies against the Flood.**_

_** This war, the presence of the Demon, the Great Journey, I am not so eagerly willing to die for this dream anymore. I will be on the Great Journey in my own way with my own contributions. But one thing I will not discard is my honor or my intelligence. I will look before I leap, and if both humans and Covenant give up this area after our alliance should we survive this and leave it for our comrades to battle for it instead then so be it. But I will not be remembered as a stubborn fool.**_

_** Strength with Honor, Dignity with Glory.**_

Adler left the grove at plain daybreak, she told the private closest to her what she was going to do. The private stayed perfectly still as they kept vigil. She supposed the silence was as valid answer as anything, they had to do something or they were going to die, all of them. She left her rifle and its three clips where she had been laying on her stomach in the small trench and took only her pistol.

In an awkward gait, she ran away from the grove and towards the general direction of the Covenant's outpost. She wondered how much it would hurt to get shot with a beam rifle. The head wouldn't, but in the gut would be excruciating. Nursing a mangled arm that had ceased to feel pain days ago and had begun to look clammy, she continued to ponder the different ways the Covenant could kill her as she hobbled through the unquiet valley hills and through the scruffy grass.

Her mind went to zero as fatigue worried her thighs, she vaguely remembered she had run out of water half a day ago, her mouth felt like sandpaper and her throat hurt. Her boots felt soggy with sweat and old socks, all of her clothes and undergarments as well as uniform and armor she felt clung to her like a thick layer of filth. Her matted hair stuck to her face with patches of dirt that had been slapped onto her face from explosions, both evaded detection from her exhausted mind.

In one word she looked like hell.

As she continued her hobble she slowed down. Adler felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle up she felt that same familiar feeling that she was being stalked. The feeling was sometimes paranoia and at other times it had served her well. But now, it was indescribable but she felt as though there was a very real presence with her.

Disregarding it for fatigue she continued until she noticed that her vision directly in front of her was glassy and distorted if only slightly. She rubbed at her eyes and continued forward until a leathery hand grasped at her throat and a plasma rifle stub poked at her breast.

The glassy distortion materialized into an Elite in bloody crimson armor. Very little fear trickled in her gut, she knew she was going to die then and there, but she might as well start talking anyway.

In its gory helmet the elite gazed at her with fiery yellow eyes, its mouth appendages hung like gnarled fingers. The fangs and teeth that lined its maw gave him a monstrous appearance.

"Hi" said Adler, her eyes wandering to the monster's jaws, its appendages flicked in thought.

The Elite's eyes narrowed

"Hey, listen. My troop got shot down by your anti air Wraith tanks and we are starving. We need your help, the Flood is coming" she wheezed between clenched teeth.

"Please"

"Help us and in turn help yourself" she added as she saw no visible reaction from the Elite, who had not yet killed her but showed no inclination to spare her either. She was expecting the plasma to incinerate her chest cavity, the flash of cold then the blinding, searing pain. At least she tried, she surmised.

Adler was wholly surprised when the Elite lowered her from its vice grip around her neck and set her on her feet.

"Tis a strange thing human that we should meet on the same road with the same end in mind" it declared. Its voice was something altogether higher than all the other Elites she had met, it wasn't deep and noble.

It was smooth and gentle.

"You-you are going to help us?" she asked, exhaustion dulling her wits.

"I was planning on offering your troop a temporary alliance. The months in this wilderness has not robbed me of my wits to know the unpredictability of the Unclean or the wisdom to know that with the humans' aid my comrades stand a better chance of survival"

It was as if he had read her mind

"Where is your commanding officer human? Were you ordered to seek us out to broker a similar agreement?" asked the Elite as he looked up at her from his slouch.

"The sergeant is at the grove where our Pelican crashed and no I came of my own accord" said Adler as she vaguely gestured the way she came with her good arm.

"Would he be willing to enter a truce with us?"

"I don't know"

The Elite glanced to his side as a robust, glassy distortion appeared then dropped its cloaking field. It was a stocky Brute that stood by him, an intimidating Spiker at its side along with a trio of spike grenades and a bandolier of human skulls. Its thick fur shot out in disparate strands throughout its shaggy mane.

"This sounds like a waste of time Draga. Your way of doing things is too clever for my taste" growled the Brute as he looked Adler over from head to toe.

The Intelligence Officer imagined that perhaps in a very real way the Brute was contemplating her as a meal.

The Elite looked back at its larger comrade, "Do you ever tire of vexing me Tros with your incessant bloodlust?"

"Do you ever tire of forbidding me my divine sport?"

Draga clicked its jaw and muttered "Good point"

Both aliens regarded the human again as their little tiff was settled.

"Human you will take us back to your grove to attempt to negotiate a truce" declared the Elite.

Adler fell to one knee in dizziness, her vision was fogging and her head thundered like a drum.

The aliens watched her collapse and pass out, neither too concerned if she lived or died.

"She stinks, the wound on her arm has begun to…season" said the Brute as he licked his sloppy lips exposing his massive canines and forward incisors which were caked in black gunk were it found purchase.

Draga gazed at the ravaged body of his frail enemy, his appendages flicked in thought.

"Call Yayu and tell him to send us the Phantom to extract us. I'd much prefer if we can save her life"

The Brute barked an order into the air, the only sign that it had been received was a near imperceptible ding in the Brute's head plate.

"Why save this meat? I still say we should hunt them all down"

"And I say we need them. Worry not noble Jiralhanae, there will be many trophies for you to collect. I will give you a hunt to remember" said Draga as he kneeled down to paw the human over in curiosity.

Draga's mind raced with the possibilities of making allies of the humans, there would be difficulties of course. He had made a clan of sorts of his entire troop, diplomatic miracles if he had ever seen one due in no small part to their Grunt Deacon Yayu who preached unity and peace between them all, not to mention they had all been kept away from traditional priests for several years now. The entire troop was its own, not willing to engage in the usual schisms of their races or even willing to listen to the arguments.

Charismatic little creature, that Yayu.

The dark armored Elite heard the low hum of the Phantom as it reared up above them and its gravity beam glowed under its boarding hole. Tros grasped the Elite's harness and pulled him away in a manner unbecoming of a soldier towards his commander. But then again, Draga and Tros' behavior with one another was anything but.

He stepped up into the gravity field and was plucked up into the Phantom, his ascent was followed by an unconscious Adler who was chucked into the field by Tros who grudgingly swatted at nothing with his Spiker as he sniffed the breeze one last time before following into the transport.

The transportations of all their assets to Haven was almost complete. By noon today they would have finished moving everything to the light bridge in the chasm. It wouldn't take their engineer a long time to activate the bridge and to open the installation to them.

He hoped

As he sat in the darkness with the Brute his mind began whirring, considering the logistics of methane refinement for his Grunts. A viable source of food for his Jackals and Elites.

A reliable source of sport for Tros, lets he become bored and turn to cruelty for entertainment.

The temperature in the coming winter and the defensible positions of Haven, where he could set the Specter and where he could place the automated turrets. What he could have built in the installation and how he might have to make a long term base for his followers and how the effects of isolation might have adverse effects on moral and what kinds of recreation he would have to employ in order to keep his hold over the troop's unity. The availability of fresh water and the absence of disease, the manufacture of supplies from the Forerunner installation. Scavenging possibilities from abandoned battlefields and the human weapons and vehicles he might be able to acquire thereof.

Human edibles weren't bad, but by his forefathers were the desserts for their troops foul.

As he continued to consider more and more points of potential difficulties in the coming months and the ways to overcome them Tros' big feet stepped into the floor plate he was staring at.

The Elite looked up at the Brute neutrally

"If they join us, what can I do with the ones who misbehave?" asked the shaggy monster

"Whatever you wish, but I will ask you to be fair Tros. Do not insult them or deliberately attempt to harm them or provoke them"

A wicked, savage smile broke out on the Brute's face

"By fair you mean?"  
The Elite's narrowing eyes spoke his answer

"Fine. But if the meat refuses to join us?"

"Like I said, whatever you wish" said the Elite glancing back at another point of no particular interest in the ship as to continue his thoughts and considerations.

Tros glanced at Adler who was laying on the floor, breathing shallowly in a cold sweat. Her face had a ghostly pallor and her lips had lost their color. Her skin was clammy and pasty.

"Sometimes I wish you hadn't stepped in front of me Draga"

"I know that Tros. You remind me of that every day, but what would you have done with your life if I hadn't' saved it and guided it as I have done?"

"I'd have a great deal more trophies" answered the Brute as he fingered his favorite marine skull.

"So you still haven't learned anything in your time with me. What would you have done I wonder had I died when I saved you"

"Do you mean before or after I would have stopped laughing, Draga?"


End file.
